't do harm. Pennyloaf can get nothing but
good from having you as a friend. She likes you; she misses you when you happen
not to have seen her for a few days. I'm sorry to say it's quite a different
thing with Bob and me. We're friendly enough - as friendly as ever - but I
haven't a scrap of influence with him like you have with his wife. It was all
very well to get hold of him once, and try to make him understand, in a
half-joking way, that he wasn't behaving as well as he might. He didn't take it
amiss - just that once. But you can't think how difficult it is for one man to
begin preaching to another. The natural thought is: Mind your own business. If I
was the parson of the parish -«
    He paused, and in the same instant their eyes met. The suggestion was
irresistible; Jane began to laugh merrily.
    What sweet laughter it was! How unlike the shrill discord whereby the
ordinary workgirl expresses her foolish mirth! For years Sidney Kirkwood had
been unused to utter any sound of merriment; even his smiling was done sadly.
But of late he had grown conscious of the element of joy in Jane's character,
had accustomed himself to look for its manifestations - to observe the
brightening of her eyes which foretold a smile, the moving of her lips which
suggested inward laughter - and he knew that herein, as in many another matter,
a profound sympathy was transforming him. Sorrow such as he had suffered will
leave its mark upon the countenance long after time has done its kindly healing,
and in Sidney's case there was more than the mere personal affliction tending to
confirm his life in sadness. With the ripening of his intellect, he saw only
more and more reason to condemn and execrate those social disorders of which his
own wretched experience was but an illustration. From the first, his friendship
with Snowdon had exercised upon him a subduing influence; the old man was stern
enough in his criticism of society, but he did not belong to the same school as
John Hewett, and the sober authority of his character made appeal to much in
Sidney that had found no satisfaction amid the uproar of Clerkenwell Green. For
all that, Kirkwood could not become other than himself; his vehemence was
moderated, but he never affected to be at one with Snowdon in that grave
enthusiasm of far-off hope which at times made the old man's speech that of an
exhorting prophet.